


Love Is Strange

by MarvelousTune



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Tumblr Prompts, everything from spin the bottle to alcoholic Molly to a Frozen AU, random one shots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 06:25:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4380695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarvelousTune/pseuds/MarvelousTune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of stories about Sherlock and Molly. Some are long, some are short, and you never know exactly what's going to pop up next. I hope you enjoy them!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Merry Christmas, Molly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I wrote all of these little fics a long time ago, and I'm just now transferring them from ff.net to this lovely website. The prompt was: Molly has a secret addiction. One day Sherlock finds her out. It was given to me by someone from Tumblr. I thought about this prompt for a while, and then I went to concert and heard Cassadee Pope perform her song "Wasting All These Tears". The entire song and especially the line, "I tried to find it in the bottom of a bottle" really inspired this story. Hope you enjoy it!

"You always say such horrible things. Every time. Always. Always…" Molly Hooper muttered as she tried to hold herself together. Somehow he had managed to humiliate her in front everyone she knew again. She did her best not to look at him, it would only take one good look to cause her tears to fall, and she told herself that she had to maintain some amount of dignity for the rest of the party.

Sherlock Holmes' face changed from judgmental to embarrassed in a matter of seconds after reading the label on the present. At first, he was not sure what to do next. He knew what he had done was wrong, but how could he possibly make it better?

"I am sorry. Forgive me." Sherlock said quickly, hoping it would fix what he had done, but her expression did not change.

She still refused to look at him, so he stepped forward and kissed her on the cheek. It was something that he only did for Mrs. Hudson, but he figured Molly would appreciate it. "Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper."

Then his phone went off, and the pathologist's face turned as red as the wrapping paper on Sherlock's gift.

"Ah! No, that wasn't- I- I didn't…" She panicked, but Sherlock cut off her stuttering, "It was me."

Everyone was confused.

"My phone." He corrected before spinning around and wandering off to look into it.

It was quick, but when he returned Molly was gone. She left the gifts for everyone and even forgot her coat, so she was obviously in a hurry to get out of the flat.

He expected John to approach him and give him a piece of his mind, but it was actually Lestrade who came to chew him out.

"You know, you've been a real arse tonight." He remarked casually before taking a sip of his drink.

The consulting detective barely acknowledged his friend's comment, he had heard it at least a million times before, but Greg went on, "She has hard time around Christmas. Now, it's not my place to say, but I'm a bit worried about her tonight, actually."

Sherlock finally glanced in his direction, "Why should you be worried?" His brow arched curiously, and Lestrade simply shrugged, "Like I said, not really my place to say. I'd go to her place tonight myself, but I've got plans after this."

"And you are suggesting that I return her coat thereby checking on her for some reason you will not tell me about? Why would I do that?" Sherlock questioned with an annoyed tone in his voice.

Lestrade shrugged once more, taking another drink, "It's the proper thing to do, and because your curious now." He placed his glass on the table and waved to John and Mrs. Hudson, "Goodnight everyone. I've got to be going."

Originally, Sherlock planned to stay home and ignore the things his friend had said to him, but after everyone else had left, he found himself pacing the floor. "Why should people be concerned for Molly tonight?" He thought aloud. John, who was cleaning up after the party, said that he didn't know and before he could ask why Sherlock bolted for the door.

"I'm going out." He announced, picking up Molly's coat on his way through the door.

John was utterly confused, but even he could not control where that man went.

Sherlock caught a cab, gave the cabbie Molly's address, and then spent the whole ride trying to remember everything he knew about Molly Hooper the pathologist.

She obviously had some kind of crush on him. He knew she liked cats, she even owned one named Toby. He also knew that she was an excellent pathologist, the only one he would work with. Her sense of humor was a bit darker than that of a normal person, but she found herself rather funny. Other than that small bit of information, he slowly came to the realization that he did not have very much data on her in his palace.

"We're here, sir." The cabbie grumbled. Clearly he had said it many times before.

Sherlock's eyes opened, he tossed money towards the man in the front seat, and slipped out of the cab without another word.

He walked into the building and easily found her flat.

It took a moment to convince himself to knock on the door. Am I actually doing this? He thought to himself.

Molly's voice called out something from inside the flat, and soon she swung the door open.

She was no longer wearing the dress from earlier, and she looked like herself again; those ridiculous earrings were gone as well. Her hair was pulled up as usual and she had taken off her makeup, it was a good thing she had too, because her cheeks were stained with tears.

"Oh," she slurred, "it's you."

He glanced past her, into the flat and saw a nearly empty bottle.

"You forgot your coat." His hand held the coat out to her.

Molly's lips formed a crooked little smile as she took the coat from him then turned around to put it in her closet. On her way across the room, she stumbled and almost fell onto the floor.

Luckily, Sherlock was able to catch her before she hit the ground.

"I'll take that." He stated, taking the coat from her hand. The consulting detective hung it up in the closet and then returned to her side to lead her towards the couch.

She tried to swat his hand away as he guided her, but he was too stubborn and refused to let go.

As she sat down on the couch her hand grabbed the bottle on the coffee table so that she could pour herself another drink.

At first, he had believed that her eyes looked glassy and bloodshot because she had been crying, but now he knew that was not the case. It was obvious that she was very drunk.

Sherlock watched her silently, but when she went to pour another, he took the bottle away. "You shouldn't drink, Molly. It doesn't suit you."

"Then what does suit me Sherlock?" She snapped and stood up, a fresh wave of tears come over her. "I give you lab access, I do everything you ask, I help you when I can, and I put up with everything you say to me. What suits me, Sherlock? Is it when I do my hair a specific way or when I allow you to look over my bodies? Oh no, I didn't mean it like that." She stammered, covering her face with her hands.

Sherlock said nothing. He was not sure what to say, but as his eyes roamed around the flat, he found the information that had been missing from his palace.

There was a very good reason to be worried about Molly Hooper.

"How long?"

"How long what?" She inquired quietly.

"How long have you been an alcoholic, Molly? I know the signs when I see them." He would have started naming them off, but that would only make things worse.

Sherlock could not wrap his mind around this.

"Do you know something?" Molly asked hysterically.

It was a rhetorical question, but she paused as if waiting for his response.

"Six years. Six years I've been sober." Her voice broke, and she had to stop to compose herself again, "Until tonight."

She covered her mouth with her hand as a sob threatened to ripped through her.

"Because of what I said." Sherlock added, his eyes widened in shock.

"Why do you have to say such things?" She asked desperately. At some point she had started to lean forward, but her body forget to stop. Before Sherlock could move to help her straighten up, her sadness had dissolved to pure anger.

She jabbed her finger into his chest, causing him to back up and her to begin standing up properly again.

"We all know you're brilliant, and I know that you don't give a damn about me, but why?" She hissed.

Now he was backed up against the wall.

Her little hands desperately grabbed onto his coat, "Can't you see I'd do anything for you?" She whispered brokenly.

Sherlock's chest tightened at the scene before him, his lovely little pathologist reduced to this.

All of this was his fault. He broke Molly and all of the strength she had built up over the years.

"I'm sorry, Molly." He said for the second time that night, this time he truly meant it with all his heart, before cautiously wrapping his arms around her in a warm embrace.

Molly clung to him despite all the angry screaming she had done only moments ago.

"Did you- did you like your present?" She asked weakly, her voice slightly muffled by his coat.

"Yes." He murmured into her hair, "Thank you for the pocket watch."

Molly smiled softly, "It was my father's."

He stayed with her for the rest of that night because she could not be alone. He learned that Christmas was a hard time because her family lived so far away from London and she got terribly lonely during the holiday.

Sherlock also learned other things about Molly like her favorite colors and what music she enjoyed.

He made room for this information and stocked his mind palace with new things about her.

Everyone he cared about got a decent room, and he decided that she deserved something bigger and better than the closet she had originally claimed.

Weeks later Sherlock and John showed up at Bart's.

Molly had herself under control again, and was even happy to see the pair come for a visit.

"I need to see the man they brought in yesterday." Sherlock said, his eyes glued on his phone.

Molly nodded and scurried off to retrieve the body.

As she was returning John suddenly glanced towards his wrist, "Dammit. I forgot my watch. Anyone got the time?" He glanced around the room for a clock, but he stopped his search when Sherlock pulled something from his pocket.

"It's 1:45." He announced before slipping it back into his pocket.

John's brows furrowed for a moment, and he pointed towards his friend's pocket, "Since when do you carry a pocket watch?"

"It was a gift." Sherlock replied matter-of-factly.

He saw Molly smile from across the room, and he could not prevent the small grin that spread across his face.

John was still lost, "Did I miss something?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! It means a lot to me. Until next time. xoxox


	2. Roses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The one word prompt: Roses. It came from another lovely Tumblr user. I can't believe I wrote these stories almost two years ago! I hope you enjoy them. :)

The suicide of the fake genius Sherlock Holmes was all over the news for a few weeks, but after that the world quickly forgot him.

He had simply been another man desperate for fame and glory, and he was no smarter than the next detective was.

The people who had once praised him now lived as if they were completely oblivious to the fact he had existed.

Only his friends and family seemed to miss him.

There was a small graveside service held where a casket was lowered into the ground and kind words were spoken.

Members of the Holmes family attended as well Mrs. Hudson, John Watson, Greg Lestrade, and Molly Hooper, but that was weeks ago.

Now everyone was off on their own again, struggling to cope with everyday life.

One day after work Molly found herself at the consulting detective's grave. It was strange being there, knowing all the secrets she did. It made everything feel very confusing. Like nothing was ever as it seemed.

She stayed there for a while, and just as she was about to leave another visitor ran up.

He was a young boy; Molly thought he could not be older than twelve.

"Excuse me." He muttered before pushing past her.

"Sorry." Molly replied with a bit of confusion in her voice. She had never seen him before and assumed he was going to see someone else, but then he stopped in front of Sherlock's headstone.

How did he know Sherlock?

The boy shrugged his backpack off his shoulders and placed it on the ground so he could easily go through its contents. The item he was searching for was careful placed at the top of the pack so it would not be squished during the trip here.

It was a small bouquet of roses.

He removed the beautiful red flowers and placed them against the smooth, black stone.

Curiosity finally got the best of Molly and she returned to the grave, "How did you know Sherlock Holmes?" She asked with a friendly smile.

He glanced back to look at her, "Oh, no ma'am, I didn't." His sad gaze returned to the stone in front of him, "He was my hero. You know, I don't believe any of those things the papers said. He was the real deal. When I grow up I'm going to be like him, I hope. I'm going to help people too."

Tears formed in Molly's eyes as she listened to the little boy talk about her friend.

"The flowers are lovely, I'm sure he would have appreciated them." She remarked before taking a seat on the ground beside him.

"I hope so," the boy beamed with pride, "I saved my money for a whole week to buy them for him."

Molly smiled, "What's your name?"

He looked at her once again and wiped a tear from his cheek, "My name is Tony."

"Thank you, Tony."

His brows furrowed in confusion, "For what?"

Molly stood up again, the boy probably wanted some alone time with his hero.

"For believing in Sherlock Holmes, of course."

That was the last thing she said to him before returning to her flat where the not-so-dead consulting detective was waiting for her.

She hoped the story of Tony, a boy who still cared, could encourage him or at least make him smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! There are more to come. Until next time! xoxox


	3. Pirates, Fairies, and Peter Pan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt: Windows. This prompt was given to me by the lovely Michelle (theheartofascientist). It's just a little bit of Kid!lock. I wrote it while my power was out for three hours (bad weather, ick.). I hope you like it. WARNING: Fluff.

"Mummy, could you tell me a story?" Six-year-old Molly Hooper asked sheepishly before her mother closed her bedroom door.

A smile settled on Mrs. Hooper's face as she nodded and returned to the foot of her daughter's bed. "Alright, what story would you like to hear this time?"

The little girl shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know." She replied simply.

Mrs. Hooper had to think for a moment before a story finally came to her. "Would you like to hear one of my favorite stories, Molly?"

"What's it about?" She inquired eagerly.

"It's about a little boy who never wants to grow up. His name is Peter Pan." Her mother explained.

Molly's eyes lit up. "Oh, yes, please."

Mrs. Hooper proceeded to tell her the story of an adventurous boy who could fly between worlds.

"How does he fly?" The littler Hooper asked, her eyes wide with awe.

"Well, you see, Peter has a friend named Tinkerbell. She is a fairy, and she has magical pixie dust that allows people to fly!"

"Wow." Molly gasped.

Next, she learned about his home.

"Neverland isn't a place here on Earth." Mrs. Hooper explained as she motioned towards the sky outside Molly's window. "It is the second star to the right."

Her daughter looked out the window, following her mother's hand motions.

"What is it like there?" Molly asked curiously.

"Oh, it's lovely. There are lagoons where mermaids swim, beautiful forests filled with hundreds of adventures, and oceans that stretch as far as the eye can see. That's where Captain Hook and his crew sail on their pirate ship." Her mother explained enthusiastically.

Molly was amazed.

"Is Peter Pan a pirate, Mummy?"

"No, no, he and Captain Hook do not get along at all."

Mrs. Hooper went on to tell the tale of how the good Captain lost his hand, and how he wanted nothing more than revenge on Peter Pan. Afterwards, she talked about the Lost Boys, John, Michael, and Wendy.

A frown formed on little Molly's face as the story came to an end. "Didn't they like it in Neverland with Peter?" She wondered aloud.

"Of course they did, but the Darlings realized that they missed their family back here in London, so they decided to go home."

"Oh." Molly yawned, finally showing signs of being tired.

"That's enough for you tonight." Mrs. Hooper smiled and placed a kiss on her daughter's forehead. "Goodnight, my dear. Sweet dreams." She tucked Molly in again, turned off the lights, and left the bedroom.

Molly closed her eyes tightly, hoping to dream about Peter Pan coming to her window and taking her away to Neverland.

Sleep was about to overtake her when she suddenly heard something at her window. She did not waste a second. Her eyes shot open and she ran to the window.

Her room was on the second floor of the house so it could only be one person. It had to be Peter Pan.

It took her a moment to figure out how to open the window, but she was able to do it quickly.

"Careful!" A boy's voice snapped from outside.

"Peter Pan is that you?" She asked excitedly as she looked around for the source of the voice.

All of the sudden a curly haired boy's head popped into view.

He had bright blue eyes and looked absolutely nothing like her mother said he did.

His brows pulled together in confusion. "No. Peter Pan is not real. He is fictional." The boy stated matter-of-factly while trying to get a better grip on the windowsill.

Molly frowned. "Then who are you?" She demanded although it sounded more nervous than anything, "Why are you climbing up the side of my house?"

He tipped his head to her before introducing himself, "Captain Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock rolled his eyes as if the answer to her second question was obvious. "I wanted to see how long it would take compared to climbing up mine." He tossed his head back, motioning towards the house next door.

Molly's eyes glanced over him, well, what she could see of him, and she crossed her arms in front of her chest. "So you're a pirate?"

It was very lucky that her mother had told her about these things earlier tonight, she thought.

Captain Holmes nodded.

"You don't look like a pirate."

"I dropped my hate while I was climbing." He retorted immediately in an attempt to defend his pirate-ness.

"Oh." She squeaked.

"Well, my mother says that pirates are rugged and brutish. Are you rugged and brutish?"

Sherlock frowned, "I am not that kind of pirate."

"What kind of pirate are you, then?" Molly inquired.

At some point, she had leaned towards him, but she only noticed this now which caused her face to turn bright red.

He noted her strange, girly behavior, but decided to ignore it.

Sherlock was silent for a long time as he tried to find the correct answer for her question. "I haven't decided yet."

"Oh." She said again.

"Well," Her voice began softly, "you better be careful, and watch out for crocodiles. You don't want to end up like Captain Hook."

His brows pulled together again. "What happened to Captain Hook?"

A smile spread across Molly's face, "Come in and I'll tell you."

After a bit of internal conflict, Captain Holmes climbed through the girl's window and decided to learn about this Captain Hook fellow. He figured he should know about other captains considering he was one himself.

Molly told him the whole story of Peter Pan and Captain Hook.

It turned out that a visit from Captain Sherlock Holmes was much better than one from Peter Pan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to think that Molly and Sherlock stayed up acting/playing out the adventures of Captain Hook and Peter Pan or something like that. Haha. :) Thank you for reading! Until next time. xoxox


	4. Decontamination Shower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decontamination shower, Sherlock plays with something he shouldn't (as usual) and ends up seeing much more of Molly than he ever has (and loves it). The prompt was given to me by leidibrf on Tumblr. This probably isn't what you expected, but I hope you still enjoy it. I know I enjoyed writing it. Thanks for reading!

Sherlock stepped around Molly to take a closer look at the cadaver lying on the table while she named off what she knew about the person. "His name was Blake Moliver, age thirty-two. Neighbors said he was suffering from a terrible cough, and the paramedics said that he was sick for about a week before he was found dead in his flat. No signs of physical trauma."

Sherlock did not respond, but Molly knew he was listening. She looked into the man's mouth and examined the head in order to get a better idea of the situation while awaiting the consulting detective's notes.

Sherlock took his time inspecting the man's hands, when suddenly he jumped back.

"Molly." He gulped.

"What is it?" She replied worriedly.

He did not respond immediately, but grabbed her by the arm instead, and pulled her away from the body.

"Hey!" She snapped. "What is it, Sherlock?"

"We have a Code Red. Hold your breath and move as fast as you can to the lab."

This information took a moment to click in her brain, but when it did, she stopped resisting.

When they reached the lab, Sherlock explained, "I've already counted fourteen, no, fifteen diseases that it could have. Due to our limited contact with the body, and possible aspiration the best option is to-"

Molly cut him off, finishing the thought, "Remove clothing and take a decontamination shower. Right. Um, how should we? Who should go-"

"Molly, I believe it would be best if we just went together. Every moment someone waits is just increasing the chance of him or her being infected."

A blush spread across Molly's cheeks, and she shook her head. "No, you can go first. Just hurry."

"Really, Molly, you're being ridiculous."

"No, really I'm not. Just go."

Sherlock shook his head. "No. Ladies first." He sighed, motioning towards the shower.

"Thank you." Molly chirped and scampered over to the shower.

Before she removed her clothing, she glanced back at him, "Could you, uh, could you turn around?"

Sherlock did as he was told, and Molly took her shower.

"Why are you so concerned about your body?" Sherlock inquired.

"Could we please not talk about this now?"

"Why would we ever have this conversation in any other situation?"

"We wouldn't. In fact, we don't need to have this conversation, so drop it, Sherlock."

A moment later, Molly finished her shower.

"I'm done." She announced and glanced in his direction. To her surprise, he spun around immediately.

"Holy mother of science!" She screamed and attempted to cover herself in anyway possible. That was not the only reason she screamed, though, actually, it was mainly because Sherlock Holmes was also completely naked.

He must have undressed when she was not paying attention.

Her scream startled him, and caused him to scream as well.

Just then, John Watson entered the lab. Having heard the screaming, he wanted to make sure that none of his friends were being murdered.

Molly and Sherlock screamed again when they turned to find John standing in the doorway, which then caused John to let out a scream too.

"Why the bloody hell don't you have any clothes on?" John cried.

Molly's attention returned to Sherlock, "Didn't you press the Code Red button before we came in here to inform others of the problem? John could get infected!"

"Infected with what?" John asked hysterically.

"About the Code Red…" Sherlock began, ignoring his concerned friend.

"There's no Code Red?" Molly shrieked.

"Not exactly…"

The pathologist threw her shoe at his head, but he ducked.

"Will someone just explain what is happening, please?" John demanded again.

"Science!" Sherlock screamed back as Molly threw her other shoe at his head.

John sighed and left the lab without another word. He could still hear yelling coming from the lab, along with a very interesting string of curse words that he had never expected to hear Molly Hooper say.

"I'm getting too old for this." He groaned, tiredly rubbing his face with his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks SO much for reading! I know it's a bit silly, but it made me laugh. :) Until next time xoxox


	5. Cold Feet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frozen!lock. That's pretty much all I have to say about this. Prompt came from my friend Hannah (thestarlitrose), because she knows how I feel about Frozen.

"Please," Prince James begged as he sat on the bench in Queen Molly's cell, "stop this winter." He reached out to place his hand on her shoulder, but she flinched away.

Although he had confessed his love for her the day of her coronation, she knew things were different now, and she did not want to hurt him.

"I can't!" She replied hopelessly, "Doesn't anyone understand? I don't know how to stop this. Please understand, James. Please. You understood before, you said you did." No tears fell from her eyes, instead the storm outside grew strong.

James stood up, turned away from her, and rubbed his face with his hands. He could not lose his temper now. Soon this would all be over, and he would be king.

The Prince spun back around and grabbed Molly by her shoulders, ignoring her pleas. "If you don't stop this, we are all going to die. Your kingdom will freeze over, and you will truly have nothing. If you can't do this for me, do it for yourself." His gaze softened, but Molly had never felt more terrified of him. "I still believe in you, Molls." With a tired sigh, he left.

The Queen's heart pounded inside her chest as she realized that he was not going to help her. Whatever they had before was over, and now it was up to her to get out of this situation. However, it was not until several guards lead by Prince James showed up outside of her door that she realized her time was almost up. They clearly were not coming to _discuss_ the problem at hand.

Her only choice was to find an escape. The chains restraining her arms were becoming weaker and weaker as frost covered the metal. With a bit of effort she was able to break them off. The difficult part was getting the wall to collapse without destroying the entire cell. In order to buy herself some more time, she froze the door shut.

When the Prince and his men finally entered, they found the cell empty. But James was determined to have Queen Molly pay, so he followed her out into the storm.

She had not gotten far, but the snow and ice made it difficult to see anything more than a few feet away.

Finally, he reached her. "Molly, stop!"

She turned to run away, but the only thing she could see was white all around her, closing in on her. She felt trapped.

"You can't run from this." He continued.

Molly faced him, but still tried to back away, "Just-just take care of my people. Tell Prince Sherlock that I'm sorry."

Prince James frowned and plastered a sad expression on his face. "Prince Sherlock returned from the mountains cold and weak. The doctors tried to save him, but it was no use. He refused to speak, but his friend John told us that you froze his heart, Molly. Sherlock's hair turned white, and his skin was like ice. Prince Sherlock is dead!" James' face was no longer sympathetic, now he watched her with a look of disgust as if she were a monster.

Queen Molly stared at him blankly for a moment before muttering the word no over and over again. She turned away from James, unable to take his look of disgust any longer.

"You killed him. You froze his heart right out." The Prince hissed like a venomous snake.

His words hit her like a ton of bricks, and she collapsed on the ground. When she did, the storm stopped immediately.

 _I always knew it would come to this_ , Molly thought, _I always knew I'd hurt someone. They were all right about me._

As tears began to blur her vision, Prince James drew his sword. He was going to end this once and for all. This weak-minded, dull creature did not deserve to rule a kingdom. It was his turn to wear the crown.

She was so blinded by her emotions that she did not even react to the sound of his sword being pulled from the sheath. Did she even hear it? How pathetic and terribly boring, he thought as he raised the blade. The Prince had hoped that this ice Queen would be entertaining, but she was completely ordinary. Broken toys are to be thrown away, and this doll had lost its luster.

Just as he lowered the sword to kill the Queen, Prince Sherlock stepped in front of her and raised his hand to stop the weapon. It was too late to go back, and James did not mind finishing this man off too, however when the sword's blade struck Sherlock's hand he turn completely to ice, and the blade shattered the moment it made contact.

"Sherlock!" John yelled from across the frozen bay, seeing the scene unfolding before him.

Queen Molly looked up and saw her curious prince frozen in front of her.

"Sherlock!" She cried, moving into a standing position in front of the statue formally known as Prince Sherlock.

With shaking hands, she touched his cheek to make sure this was real. "Oh, Sherlock. I'm so sorry." She choked; stroking his frozen curls with her other hand. "I am so sorry, Sherlock."

As the tears ran down her cheeks, she hugged him carefully. (She could never live with herself if she broke him.)

Standing there with her arms wrapped around the ice Prince, she remembered seeing him at her coronation, and then later at the ball.

"Your majesty, Prince Mycroft and Prince Sherlock have come to speak with you." Her servant announced politely as the young men approached her.

Sherlock looked absolutely bored, but his brother Mycroft was all business.

They discussed trade, but Prince Sherlock with his curls and eyes the color of a frozen pond was much more interesting in Molly's opinion.

Prince James showed up a moment later to steal Molly's attention. That was when he confessed his love for her, and at the time she believed him.

Later in the night, Sherlock approached her again. This time he actually spoke to her, "Hello, I'm Prince Sherlock of-"

The Queen cut him off before he could continue, "I know. We met earlier. I spoke with your brother, remember?"

"We did?"

"Yes." Molly laughed.

"I must have been thinking."

"What could you have possibly been thinking of that could lead you to ignore the entire conversation I had with your brother?"

"You, of course."

Her cheeks turned a bright shade of red, "W-wha- excuse me?"

"Do you have a hearing disability? I said you."

"No, my hearing is fine. What were you, um, thinking about me?"

"Your secret. What are you hiding, Queen Molly?" He asked curiously.

"Excuse me?" She replied nervously as she quickly went through the evening step by step in her head to discover where she could have slipped up and showed her powers.

"You are hiding something." Sherlock repeated before going on, "You see, it is quite simple to deduce. I am sure my brother noticed it as well, but he is too polite to say anything. Are you sleeping around with your servants, perhaps? No. That's not it."

"I don't know what kind of game you are trying to play, Prince Sherlock, but I want no part of it. The party is over. I have to go." She turned and walked away, and as she passed one of her servants, she told him to tell everyone that the party was over. "Close the gates." She instructed finally.

Sherlock was persistent, though, and he followed her. He tried to stop her by grabbing her hand, but he pulled her glove off instead.

"Give it back!" Molly demanded a little too loudly, grabbing everyone's attention.

Sherlock grinned mischievously and shook his head, "Not until you explain yourself."

"I don't have to explain anything to you." She hissed. Molly decided that she could get new gloves and went to leave again.

"As your closest partners in trade we deserve to know what you are hiding. We can find other trade partners, you know!" Sherlock threatened, using anything he could think of to get what he wanted. Obviously, this was not about trade. He simply wanted to prove that he was correct.

"I told you, the party is over!" She shouted in response. That was when everything started falling apart. As Queen Molly spun around to face Sherlock again, a wall of ice crystallized around her, and forced everyone to get back.

"Witch!" One of the women shrieked.

"Sorceress!" Another man gasped.

Sherlock's eyes widened as the jagged ice came a bit too close for comfort. He looked to Molly, and saw a look of terror spread across her face.

Immediately, she fled the room and ran outside. There were hundreds of people standing out there too, waiting for a chance to see their new queen, but she ignored them and disappeared into the mountains.

There she built herself a palace of ice, and made herself at home. It was clear that she could never return to the kingdom.

Queen Molly also remembered Prince Sherlock coming to her castle on the North Mountain, and trying to talk sense into her. He even apologized for causing her so much trouble.

When Molly told him that he needed to leave, he asked her if he could see some more of her powers. Originally, she said no, but those eyes of his are very persuasive. So, she showed him everything she knew how to do, and it felt amazing to be so free with her powers. Never before had she felt so in control.

"You're magnificent." Prince Sherlock said with a small smile as he stood in front of her.

Molly smiled back at him before diverting her eyes. "You sound a lot like my dad. He was the only one who didn't think my powers were a curse. He tried to help me through them."

Suddenly she frowned and stepped away from him, because she had not realized how close they had gotten to each other.

Sherlock stepped back as well, and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Listen, Molly. I didn't just come here to apologize."

"What do you mean?" She asked sheepishly.

"When you left the ball the other night you set off an eternal winter." Sherlock answered calmly as if what he said was a normal occurrence.

Molly, on the other hand, nearly had a breakdown.

"Don't worry, you can just unfreeze it and everything will be alright." Sherlock shrugged.

"No I can't. I don't know how!" She replied quickly.

"Don't be silly, Molly. If you can do everything you just showed me, you can certainly fix the weather."

As they spoke it began snowing inside the palace.

"I shouldn't have shown you that. You could have gotten hurt. I'm sorry I was being foolish."

Sherlock took a step towards her in an attempt to comfort her, but she backed away.

"Sherlock, please, you're only going to make it worse." She stammered.

"No need to panic." He replied.

Molly ran her finger through her hair and closed her eyes, desperately trying to think. The storm was raging inside of her. She could feel it in her veins, her heart, and her head. It would not stop, she could not think, and Sherlock just kept talking. He was not helping.

"You're not safe here." Molly said through clenched teeth, but he ignored her and offered to help her figure out how to stop the winter again.

Now the wind was picking up.

"You're being ridiculous!" He finally said. "Just let me help you."

"I can't!" She shouted and held out her hand, signaling for him to stop, but instead her powers shot him in the chest and knocked him off his feet.

Hearing the commotion, John ran inside. He had come with Sherlock on his mission to find Queen Molly. "Sherlock are you alright?" John asked. Sherlock said yes, although he was not.

After that, Molly told them that they should leave.

The next day Prince James and some men from the kingdom came, got Queen Molly, and put her in prison.

Little did she know that when Sherlock and John returned to the kingdom, Prince James was ready for them as well. "It's funny, isn't it, Sherlock?" James began, "You see, I was going to burn the heart out of you, but our little girlfriend seems to have frozen it. I must say, I am both disappointed and amused." He then explained his plan to kill Molly and become king and locked Sherlock in a freezing cold room with no hope in sight.

As the memories filled her mind, Molly was not aware of what else was happening.

Suddenly, she felt Sherlock's strong arms surround her in a surprisingly warm and slightly stiff hug. She looked up and could not help but smile through her tears when she saw that he was alive and smiling down at her.

"Sherlock!" She almost laughed with joy as her arms tightened around him. For once, she forgot all about her powers. "You sacrificed yourself for me?"

"Losing you would be a much greater cost." He breathed.

A few years later not much had changed.

Prince James was exiled, and Molly discovered that she could end the winter after all. Sherlock stayed in the kingdom to solve crimes, although his brother returned home after the ice melted.

Today, however, was a special day, and Sherlock's family returned to Molly's kingdom for the first time in a long while. After all, it is not every day that your youngest son gets married. It also is not every day that your youngest son becomes king.

As everyone was preparing for the big ceremony, Molly snuck out of her room and outside into the garden. She was extremely nervous about today and decided that she needed some fresh air. She walked along one of the walls of hedges in the garden and as she reached the end of the wall, she was surprised when a hand motioned for her to stop. She recognized the hand almost immediately, but was still confused.

"What are you doing out here?" She asked as she jumped back behind the hedge.

"I could ask you the same question." Sherlock replied.

He knew that she would be upset if he saw her, because she believed in the old wives' tale that said it was bad luck for a groom to see his bride before the wedding, so he stayed on his own side of the bushes.

"I needed some air."

"Why?" He asked.

"It's so busy in the castle, I-I got a headache."

"You're lying." Sherlock sighed.

"Don't deduce me, please. I'm nervous enough as it is."

"Why are you nervous, Molly?"

"Do you have cold feet?" She asked suddenly.

Her husband-to-be was silent for a moment before replying, "Don't make jokes…"

"No, I'm being serious."

"Of course I am not regretting the decision to marry you. Do you have cold feet?"

"No, no… It's just…" He could hear her get teary-eyed as she began to ramble on about how he could have any girl he wanted. "You know, a warm, soft girl who doesn't give you frostbite just by holding your hand."

Sherlock scoffed and reached across the end of the hedge to take her hand in his, ""I am not interested in other women." He stated.

Due to her panicking, a thin layer of ice started to form over his hand.

When he felt this, he continued, "They are completely boring. I love you, Molly." Pulling her arm a little closer he placed a kiss on her hand, and slowly the ice began to melt.

Sherlock grinned, "Besides, the cold has never bothered me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See what I did there? Eh? Eh? Hahaha.   
> Sorry for all the dorky fluff, but I will forever love this. Thanks so much for reading! xoxox


	6. Truth or Dare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt: Sherlock makes the startling discovery that, despite her different past boyfriends, Molly has never been kissed. Sherlock decides he wants to remedy this. The prompt was given to me by the wonderful morbidmegz. I decided to make it Teen!lock. I wrote this a long, long time ago, so I apologize for any little errors. Thank you so much for reading!

"You have to come to the party." John Watson said to his friend for the hundredth time. Although Sherlock Holmes was a year below him, the bloke was brilliant. They had become friends quickly, but the boy was extremely stubborn.

"No I don't." Sherlock replied causally.

"We're having it at your house!"

"You are having it at my house. I am going to the library with Molly. We have a chemistry project due next week."

John grinned, "With Molly, huh?"

"What about Molly?" The girl in question asked as she approached the boys.

"Oh, um, Sherlock was just saying that he thought it would be fun if you both came to the party tonight."

Molly glanced uneasily between Sherlock and John before responding, "Instead of working on the project?"

Sherlock was going to reply when John cut in again, "Yes. 7:30. Sherlock's house." Sherlock shot him a glare.

"Really?" A smile formed on Molly's lips, and she looked to Sherlock again, "I mean, I'd love to go to the party. Are you sure, though?" To her, he did not seem like the party type; actually, he told her just the other day that he did not enjoy large gatherings.

"He's absolutely positive." John said, interrupting her thoughts. This time Sherlock's head gave a little nod of agreement.

"Okay. That sounds great! I'll be there." Molly cheered before scurrying off to her next class.

Once she was gone, Sherlock turned to John, scowling. John was smiling and obviously very proud of himself. That made the boy even angrier, although his face did not show it.

There was a moment of silence before Sherlock calmly said, "I'm going to hit you."

"No you aren't." John laughed, "You aren't going to hit me." Before the blond boy could continue, Sherlock punched him square in the jaw.

Without hesitating, John hit him back, and it did not take long for their little tussle to turn into a mini-brawl. No one paid them much attention, but everyone stayed out of the way. This happened occasionally; after all, they had very different personalities. But it was as friendly as a fight could be, and they stopped before anyone was injured. The only problem was that once they got started, it took a bit to calm them down.

Every so often one of them would mutter an "I can't believe you did that!" or an "I know you like her, you idiot!" and there was a "Shut up!" in there somewhere too.

Boys will be boys.

Suddenly Sherlock heard a very familiar pair of footsteps heading in their direction. The principal, he deduced.

John must have heard them too- Sherlock had taught him a few of his most useful deduction "tricks"- because they stopped fighting almost simultaneously and pulled apart.

The boys tried to look as casual as possible with their messy hair and disheveled clothing.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen. Having a problem, Mr. Watson?" The principal asked when he reached them.

"No, sir." John assured him.

Sherlock, on the other hand, said nothing. He ran his eyes over the principal, deducing up a storm.

_Just had an early lunch._

_Had a fight with his wife this morning, probably about the affair with the librarian. How dull._

Unfortunately, the principal knew exactly what Sherlock was doing. "Do I need to call your brother again, Mr. Holmes?" He asked.

Sherlock's eyes returned to the principal's face immediately. "No, sir." The boy muttered.

"Excellent. Have a nice day, boys."

When he was gone, John and Sherlock slowly started to laugh.

"That certainly was a close one." Sherlock chuckled before becoming serious again, "I'm still not going to that party."

"Nonsense," John insisted, "you have to now. Molly thinks you two are going."

"Molly Hooper is an exceedingly understanding and sensible person. I'll simply tell her we cannot go."

John signed and shook his head. "That would be terrible."

"Not good?"

"Not good at all, no."

"Fine."

* * *

After school, the boys went directly to the Holmes house. Sherlock did his best to avoid the party preparations by hiding out in the kitchen, doing something that, as far as John could tell, involved multiple dangerous chemicals.

"We're all set." John announced when he entered the kitchen. "People will be here soon." He added, attempting to get a response.

"Have fun." Sherlock replied a few minutes later.

Mycroft, Sherlock's older brother, walked into the room and raised a brow at the boys. As usual, Sherlock ignored his presence and continued experimenting.

"Put that away. You have company." Mycroft said.

"Wrong. John has company, I have experiments."

Mycroft rolled his eyes, "I know parties aren't really your area. Perhaps Mummy should have socialized you more."

There was no response from the younger Holmes. Instead, he focused his attention on the microscope in front of him.

"Speaking of Mummy," Mycroft began again, "I'm sure she would love to know what you are doing to her new perfume." His hand motioned to a bottle on the counter, and that was the end of the discussion.

Sherlock snatched up the perfume bottle and started cleaning up his mess, grumbling all the while. Of course, Mycroft had to stand there and watch his brother clean. The boy was brilliant; however, he often acted like a five year old, especially when dealing with his brother.

"We'll be studying upstairs." Mycroft explained when Sherlock was finished, "If you need anything… Don't ask." The older Holmes grinned smugly and went upstairs.

"Who is 'we'?" John asked nosily.

"Mycroft and some girl he studies with." Sherlock mumbled, still pouting.

"Does she have a name?"

"Not as far as I'm concerned."

Just then, the doorbell rang, interrupting John's questions and Sherlock's pouting.

"Must be our first guest." John smiled.

Sherlock grimaced and followed John as he hopped off to answer the door.

"Your guest." Sherlock added stubbornly.

The doorbell chimed another time before John opened the door, revealing his current girlfriend Mary.

Unlike John's other lady friends, Sherlock thought Mary to be very intelligent. He even caught himself laughing at her jokes and clever comments from time to time.

"Hi!" Mary cheered before placing a kiss on John's cheek.

"Hey." He replied, grinning from ear to ear.

Sherlock noticed how he was different with Mary. It appeared that John was truly interested in this one.

"Hello, Sherlock." She said as she walked into the house.

"Mary." He nodded.

The rest of the guests showed up rather quickly after Mary. Sally and Anderson came, then Greg and Irene, and finally Molly. The party officially started.

"Nice house." Sally commented to Sherlock from across the room. "Looks like I win. Hand it over." She said to Anderson. With a sigh, Anderson pulled the money out of his pocket and handed it to her. "You too, Greg." She reached out expectantly. He grumbled and removed his arm from around Irene's shoulders to get the money from his pocket.

"What are you doing?" Mary asked curiously.

"Isn't it obvious?" Sherlock remarked, a bored tone in his voice. "They made a bet. Sally thought my house would be as big as my ego, to quote her exactly, and Greg thought it would be an average size."

"And Anderson?" Mary inquired.

"He, quite stupidly, believed I'd live in a flat. Clearly, Sally won."

The fact that no one had seen Sherlock's home before was one of the reasons that everyone came to the party. The other was that everyone really liked John.

Everyone was having a lot of fun, but the time flew by. Anderson and Sally insisted on leaving, claiming it was getting late.

"They're really going off to snog in Anderson's car." Sherlock said to whoever was listening. Molly, who was sitting on the nearby couch, heard him, and snickered. She then proceeded to try to make a joke about Anderson and Sally snogging in a car, but it turned out very morbid. Sherlock reminded her not to make jokes.

"Alright, everyone gather 'round." Mary called, "We're going to play a game."

Irene grinned, "What are you going to play? Spin the bottle?"

"We aren't thirteen." Greg chuckled nervously.

"Right," Mary agreed. "So, we're going to play a more grown up game. Truth or Dare." Groans came from all around the room. "Oh, come on. It'll be fun." She insisted.

Eventually everyone settled around in a circle, and the game began.

"I'll go first!" Irene exclaimed. She looked around the circle, trying to choose her victim. "John," She smirked, "truth or dare?" He chose dare. "Alright, run your fingers through Sherlock's hair. Mess up those lovely curls for me."

Greg shot Irene a glare. They were not exactly dating, but he was not currently seeing anyone else. Everyone could see that he adored her, but very few understood why.

"I'm not playing." Sherlock objected.

"Everyone's playing." Mary replied.

John reluctantly did as he was told and ruffled his friend's hair. Sherlock sat stiffly and was obviously very uncomfortable with the situation.

"Happy now?" John asked when he was finished.

"Immensely." Irene purred.

"Alright. My turn now. Greg, truth or dare?" John said. Greg chose dare as well. "'I dare you to steal Mycroft's left shoe."

"No bloody way. Off his foot? No way in hell. Stealing is not my thing." Greg snapped.

"You have to!" Someone exclaimed.

Greg glanced around for some support from the others, but no one came to his aid. Even Sherlock was on board for this one. So, he forced himself upstairs. "The things I do for you people…" He muttered before disappearing into the unknown.

While they were waiting for Greg to retrieve the shoe, the game went on.

"Truth or dare, Irene?" Molly asked.

"Truth."

"Okay, um, do you really, genuinely like Greg?" She asked timidly.

This question seemed to throw Irene off. She expected to be asked about a rumor from school, after all, there were many rumors about her. But she just wanted to know how she felt about Greg? "Uh, yeah." Irene answered slowly, "I like him."

Suddenly, there was a loud bang from upstairs.

A moment later, a young lady came down the stairs, dragging Greg by his shirt collar. "We're not playing the game." She announced to the group before releasing the teenager and turning to return upstairs.

She stopped halfway as her phone buzzed to life, and she glanced down to read the text message. Finally, she looked back to Greg, "I suggest you leave now. Have a nice night."

When she was gone, Greg held the shoe up victoriously, and everyone started cheering and laughing. When the group demanded to hear what had happened Greg refused to say a word, which only made them laugh harder.

Once the laughter died down a bit, Greg started backing towards the door. "I guess I better go."

"I'll go with you." Irene said suddenly, standing up.

Once everyone had waved goodbye, only John, Sherlock, Mary, and Molly remained.

They were still playing Truth or Dare when the doorbell rang. Sherlock's neighbor Mrs. Hudson had stopped by to make sure everything was going alright. She knew the boys' parents were away, and being a very compassionate young woman, she had a tendency to worry about them. Once the teens assured her that everything was fine, she went home.

Then Sherlock dared Mary to sneak into Mrs. Hudson's house and steal the cookies she baked earlier. Because Mary was a good sport, she went along with the dare. And even though she got caught, Mrs. Hudson let her have the cookies anyway.

"Okay, last one." Mary grinned, her face still reddened with embarrassment. "Molly, truth or dare?" Molly chose truth, and Mary told her to give the details of her first kiss.

"Well, I was fourteen, and he asked me to the cinema. We saw a silly romantic comedy; I can't really remember the, uh, the title. Anyway, after the movie, my mum was waiting outside, and he kissed me before we walked outside." Mary giggled, and said that it was a cute story.

Now that the game was over the party started coming to a close. John offered to stay and help clean up, but Molly told him that she would help Sherlock. John had to take Mary home, anyway.

While they cleaned, Sherlock's mind raced.

He knew that Molly lied about her first kiss, it was obvious, but why would she? Molly Hooper was a very desirable girl, and she had dated a few boys in the time that he had known her. There was Tim, Darren, and Jim.

Jim was the latest, but she broke up with him a few months ago, and afterwards he got expelled. Apparently, he had started some sort of business. Jim from French class was a devil in disguise. Nevertheless, certainly she must have kissed one of them, right?

After much consideration, he decided to confront her. She was washing a bowl in the kitchen when Sherlock walked into the room.

"Why did you lie?" He asked without hesitation.

"What?" Molly was surprised by his question and accidentally dropped the bowl, causing it to shatter on the ground. "Oh!" She squeaked, "I'm so sorry. I just- I'm sorry. What did you say?"

Sherlock did not really care about the broken bowl. "Why did you lie about your first kiss?" He asked.

"How did you know I was lying?"

"Molly, you underestimate me."

She looked away from him and sighed, "Well, it isn't really any of your business, is it?"

Sherlock frowned, "It doesn't make sense. You've had at least three boyfriends since I've known you, and chances are that you kissed at least one of them. Clearly that boy in your story does not exist, so it stands to reason that-"

"I haven't been kissed, Sherlock!" Molly blurted out. "Not by Tom or Darren or Jim or anyone. Are you happy now? I'm sorry I lied. Thanks for the party. I had fun." She quickly stepped around him, walked through the house, and towards the front door.

Sherlock sighed and ran his hands back through his hair, trying to build up the courage to follow her.

When he heard the door open, he shot off after her. That's what John would tell him to do, he thought.

"Molly, wait." He said as he caught up to her.

She did not stop, so he grabbed her wrist. "I'm sorry, but just be reasonable for a moment."

Molly stopped trying to break free from his grip and glanced back at him. It was obvious that she was embarrassed. "Can't I just go home, Sherlock? Please?"

"No. Close your eyes." Sherlock instructed.

"Sorry, what?"

"Molly Hooper, close your eyes."

After silent battle of wills, Molly closed her eyes.

At first, nothing happened, and she was about to speak when suddenly she felt Sherlock's lips press against hers.

The kiss was short, but it was gentle, sweet, and everything a girl could ask for from a first kiss.

When he pulled away she kept her eyes shut, still in awe of the moment, and she did not open them until she heard the door close.

Molly glanced around, and found that she was alone again.

She could not help but smile all the way home. She would not have to lie anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed my little story! Until next time. xoxox


End file.
